Misty said, “Leave me alone.”
Josie laughed. She couldn’t help it. The sound made Misty jump. She was only a few years younger than Josie. In fact, she had probably been a freshman at Denton East when Ray and Josie were seniors. Josie didn’t remember her. Didn’t know what had driven her to work at Denton’s one and only strip club, Foxy Tails. Still, she had a childlike quality about her and Josie hated that. She always looked like she was genuinely surprised by other peoples’ animosity, which Josie found strange. Surely, she wasn’t the only wife to catch her husband in bed with Misty. She was certain that Misty had been confronted by angry wives many times. Josie took a step toward her.
“I mean it,” Misty said. “I’ll call Ray.”
“Go ahead,” Josie said.
A flush crept upward from Misty’s throat to the roots of her hair. She held up her cell phone. “I mean it. Leave me alone.”
Josie put a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes. “What do you think I’m going to do to you, Misty?”
Her doe eyes went blank. “I… I don’t have to talk to you.”
Josie laughed again, causing Misty to shrink backward. “Oh, I have no interest in talking to you, but people go to jail for doing the things I’d like to do to you.”
The flush deepened. “Is… is that a threat?”
Josie lowered her voice. “Are you afraid?”
Misty’s voice went up an octave. Her fingers scrabbled across the phone’s screen. “I’m calling Ray.”
Josie didn’t take her eyes off Misty. She could hear the thin sound of Ray’s phone ringing and ringing and then his voicemail clicking on. “You have reached Ray Quinn…”
“He’s not going to answer. He’s busy,” she told Misty.
Misty lowered the cell phone from her ear. She backed up two steps. “Get away from me,” she said without conviction.
Josie advanced on her. “Why? Why should I? You have no respect for other people. Why should I respect you?”
Misty’s face twisted, and Josie knew she was about to see her real side. “Oh, please. Maybe if you could keep your husband happy he wouldn’t have come looking for me.”
The words stung. Wasn’t that at the root of Josie’s grief over her failed marriage? That she wasn’t enough for him? That maybe if she had been able to forgive him for what had happened he wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere? She had always told herself that it wasn’t her fault. They’d been together since high school. On her weaker days, she could see that maybe he had grown bored—she had felt that way sometimes as well. But Ray sleeping with Misty wasn’t what truly wounded her. It was that he had fallen in love with her.
Who fell in love with a woman named Misty? A stripper, no less. It was such a cliché. It made her physically ill.
“I wouldn’t be proud of being a homewrecker,” Josie told her.
A thin, cruel smile spread across Misty’s face like a snake. “Ray said you don’t satisfy him anymore,” she said, quietly.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or the day she had just had, or the suspension, or the months of rage over the dissolution of her marriage and then Ray’s refusal to sign the divorce papers. Maybe it was all of those things. But it happened, lightning fast. Before she even had time to realize what she was doing, Josie stepped forward and drove her shoulder into Misty’s chest, knocking her back so she stumbled, her arms flailing as she tried to keep her balance, her feet flying out from beneath her as she crashed into a wall of bottles behind her. Bottles of red wine shattered onto the floor, splashing crimson liquid everywhere. The sound was deafening.
Before Misty or anyone else in the store could react, Josie fled, squeezing through the automatic exit door before it had a chance to fully open. The cool evening air felt good on her face as she walked quickly toward her car, her whole body trembling.
She leaned against her car door, sucking in the fresh air and willing her body to calm down. Looking down at her hands, she saw that they were clenched into fists. She opened them only to discover that her fingers too, were shaking.
“You bitch!” Misty’s voice was a screech. She stood twenty feet away, outside of the liquor store, covered in red wine and shards of glass. Josie stared at her for a long moment. Misty’s chest heaved, tears streaming down her cheeks as she shrieked at Josie once more, “You stupid bitch!”
Josie couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. She had thought the sight of Misty, visibly shaken and humiliated, would make her feel better. But she felt worse. She felt empty and hollow and ashamed.
She couldn’t get home fast enough.
Chapter Twelve
Josie woke to an incessant dinging, her head foggy and thick, like someone had stuffed gauze into her eye sockets and cotton into her mouth. Dry-heaving over the side of the bed, she spied the digital clock. She’d slept past noon. The last time that had happened she was in college. The sound came rapid fire now, the headache behind her eyes pulsing in time with it. She rolled over and tried to sit up on the edge of the bed. Huge mistake. She tried to think back to a time in her life when her body hurt this badly, and she couldn’t think of one. A dull ache spread across her lower back and the throbbing in her leg was a like a drumbeat. Items flew from her nightstand drawer as she searched desperately for the ibuprofen. She tried taking them dry like she always did, but the pills turned to a bitter paste in her mouth.
Dingdingdingdingdingding.
A quick scan of the room didn’t turn up her cell phone. Next to her pillow lay a bottle of tequila, a finger of amber liquid still in the bottom. She used it to wash the painkillers down and stood gingerly.
Dingdingdingdingdingding.
Then a familiar voice. It was muffled, but she could just make out the words. “Goddamn it, Jo! I know you’re in there.”
Only Ray ever called her Jo. She let him machine-gun her doorbell and holler until his throat was raw as she took her time getting down the stairs. The door swung open and blinding sunlight flooded her foyer. Ray was just a blurred, headless blob in her light-stung vision. She put a hand to her head. Her hair was matted on one side. She must look like hell.
“Is Luke here?” he asked.
She blinked, trying to bring him into focus. “What do you think?”
“I think you look like shit. Are you sick?” He sniffed the air and recoiled. “Tequila? Really, Jo?”
She sighed. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could remain standing, the pain in her body was so intense, but she didn’t want to invite him in. She didn’t want him in her sanctuary. “I’m not the one with the drinking problem, Ray,” she muttered, knowing it would sting. “What do you want?”
As her eyes adjusted she saw that he held his hat in both hands, squeezing. He always looked like this now—hat in both hands, like some kind of supplicant. Like he was going to beg her for something. He said, “Misty told me what happened last night.”
She squinted at him. “So?”
“You can’t treat her like that, Jo.”
“Fuck you.”
“You’re lucky she isn’t pressing charges,” he said.
“Oh, please.”
“I’m serious. Just leave her alone. I’m the one who cheated.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. She’s just a garden-variety whore.”
A muscle in his jaw quivered. “Jo,” he cautioned.
Josie rolled her eyes. “Ray, I didn’t do anything to her. I was just walking down the aisle.”
He gave her a skeptical look. He was coming into focus now, and she could see how terrible he really looked. A patchy beard had grown in on his face. His eyes were glassy, with large bags beneath them. His blue Denton PD uniform hung off him. “She said you pushed her.”
“I might have bumped into her.”
“Jo, really.”
“Oh, come on, Ray. How can a woman who can take so much pounding be so sensitive about me bumping into her? She’s not made of glass, for Chrissake.”